


I Can't Let You Go

by SHARKMARTINI



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Coming-of-age, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Time, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, SnowBaz, Sorry Not Sorry, lots of random introspection, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"he's enjoying everything about being on his own for the very first time so much that it takes him a solid month to find something he doesn't like. And when he finally does, it comes in the form of Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch."</p>
<p>AU where Simon and Baz meet for the first time during their first year at uni.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> My first multichapter fic. Will update weekly, possibly more frequently if time permits. Also, I've never been to the UK and instead of doing proper research I just took stuff from my own uni experience.

     There's freedom in being your truest self. That's the first thing Simon learns in uni. Living away from the shadow of his adoptive father, Davy, for the first time since he can remember, Simon learns how to live for himself- to do the things he wants to do when he wants to do them. No more endless tutoring over subjects that bore him to tears, no more expectations of greatness from teachers, people who know his father's reputation and expect to see the same greatness in him. No more anxiety over not being good enough, not being the best. Here, at uni he isn't expected to be anything other than just another undergrad- sleeping through lectures, playing frisbee out on the quad, attending all the events on campus with free food and boozing it up on weekends.

      He makes real friends for the first time, people he wants to spend time with because he likes them for who they are, and not because of who their parents are, or how good they are at any particular instrument/extracurricular/subject. His best friend at uni- Penny- is taking about 2 credits more than is required for a freshman, and the two of them are happy to find a large overlap in their schedules between her prerequisites for peace and conflict studies, and Simon's joint program of international relations and political science.

      In fact, he's enjoying everything about being on his own for the very first time so much that it takes him a solid month to find something he doesn't like. And when he finally does, it comes in the form of Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. He's seen him on campus before, and in the short few weeks of school that have already passed he's already managed to become infamous. He almost never talks to anyone other than the two boys often seen trailing behind him (Dev and Niall- apparently they all went to prep school together somewhere) and he's never given anyone who's tried the time of day. And tons of people have tried.

      The more Simon hears about him the more he decides he despises him- top of his class, born into a family so rich he'll never have to work a day in his life, all-star football player and the trickiest tennis serve you'll find on this side of the English channel. And then there's the rest- his flawless caramel skin, the grey of his eyes, the perfect fit of his bespoke suits around the muscles of his shoulders and chest. Simon hates him, literally hates him, and every chance he gets he starts complaining to Penny about little things he's noticed (like who even wears suits to 9am lecture? Isn't that just a sign of how stuck up and what a fucking prick he is??). And he goes on living his life just the same until the day he finally has enough.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting.

     Agatha was one of the first people Simon met when he moved into Woodsworth college. She was lovely with the early morning sun in her blonde hair, and was kind enough to help him move his things once she'd noticed he was emptying his U-Haul alone. For awhile he thought they could be good together, he couldn't imagine anything he could want more than spending his life with her, their kids and dog, in a little country house by the lake. It had been hard to accept that she didn't want any of those things, and even harder to admit that maybe it wasn't the life she objected to- but rather to him.

     He knows he isn’t owed anything and Penny has kept reminding him to think about the fact that she's her own person and he gets it- it's fine, but he would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that maybe he was still holding a bit of a torch for her anyway. It's this little part of him that decides to intervene when he notices Agatha get spectacularly turned down one morning in front of the commerce building by the one and only Tyrannus Pitch. Before he can think about the reality of what he's doing Simon is stepping forward, far closer than personal space would usually allow and yanking on the edge of a deep green sleeve.

     "Hey, fuck you, what's your problem?," Simon winces at the gruff tone of his voice and learns once again how terrible he actually is with words. He doesn't know what he expects but it isn't the calmness with which Tyrannus turns around and looks at him, the expression on his face reminds Simon of the way he himself sometimes looks at gum caught underneath his trainers, or how he imagines one looks at roadkill.

     "It seems of the both of us, you're the only one with the problem, Snow," his voice is deeper than Simon was expecting, and the use of his name startles him even more.

     "What? How do you know me?" He is nobody, wants to be nobody. Here, thousands of miles away from home without the weight of his father's expectations and plans where he can just be himself. Tyrannus smirks, and it's kind of a shame, because Simon can imagine just how good a real smile might look on his face instead.

     "I don't need to know you to know all about your father," Simon can feel his heart stop beating. Shit, shit. There goes his freedom, all the things he thought he would be able to do for himself, for no reason other than he wants to. He purposefully went to school as far away as Davy would let him, and had even put up with the humiliation of having to listen and watch as his father called up the admissions office and use his name to get him off the waiting list- anything to get further away.

     Tyrannus finally disentangles his sleeve from Simon's clutch and smooths the fabric neat again. He barely gives a glance his way as he continues to verbally press into Simon's sore spot.

     "You may have been preoccupied with trying to pass your A-levels, obviously not that it did you any good, but if you had been paying any attention your beloved step father has been tearing into my family's business all year- rather a bother really. And then when I thought the whole affair couldn't get any messier, he called my aunt up to ask for a favour," Simon may not know much about Tyrannus, but he doesn't need to to feel the dread settle like a deadweight in the pit of his stomach as the smirk gets wider and Tyrannus leans forwards, beckoning him closer like he's about to share a big secret.

     "Waitlisted? Well that certainly won’t do for the son of the great political reformer. Good thing my aunt Fiona knows how to settle a dispute properly. Imagine, making deals with the enemy because your son doesn't know how to take advantage of the opportunities people bend over backwards to give him-," Simon can feel a hot sting behind his eyes and grinds his teeth together to try and keep it together.

     "Fuck you Tyrannus! Like you got here because of your brain and not because of your posh name or family connections-" Tyrannus smiles wider and turns, checking his mobile before starting towards the commerce building stairs.

     "You're more than welcome to check my GPA at the end of the term, in fact I insist if it would put your mind at ease." Simon can't find anything to say and instead clenches his hands into fists, humiliated and nerves raw. He doesn't even remember why he started this in the first place- something about Agatha?

     "And Snow," Baz tosses over his shoulder as he continues walking away, "I rather prefer to go by Baz".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far. Update Fri/Sat-ish.


	3. Chapter Three

     It only gets worse after his very public verbal flaying from Tyrannus- or rather, Baz. He doesn't need Penny to tell him about the whispers in the dining hall, which is a good thing because he knows she doesn't pay attention enough to be able to repeat them anyway. The son of rising politician Davy Mager, let into their prestigious uni as a favour to his father. Another perfect example of the different rules governing the ruling class. It makes Simon's skin boil, and drives him to work harder than ever. If he was unable to earn his place here, he can sure as hell make sure he deserves the spot he's been given.

      The days keep going by, and Simon studies harder than ever, taking more notes than anyone else, spending endless hours organizing them, annotating his textbooks. And as a special form of torment he can't go anywhere without seeing Baz.

      One early morning shortly after their show down in front of the commerce building, Simon is running out the door of Woodsworth's dorm and into the quad, almost mowing down Baz who manages to side step gracefully as Simon trips over himself in surprise and tumbles to the grass.

      "What the fuck are you doing here?" Simon is too angry to be surprised, their previous fight still weighing heavily on his mind, and his reputation.

      "Snow," He has no idea how Baz does it, he looks calm as ever despite the surprise of almost being knocked off his feet at 7am, and Simon immediately notices and then forces himself not to notice that despite the early hour Baz is wearing another suit- a blue so dark it edges on black. He even has a bloody pocket square for Christ's sake.

      "I live here." Simon turns his head to the direction Baz is pointing in so quickly he hears his neck crick. He sees Baz smirk from the corner of his eye as he notices the building on the other side of the quad. Victoria College maybe? He had no idea it was a dorm, with his luck Baz could probably see right into his room from that distance and find other things to harass him with.

      Simon doesn't bother with anything more, just picks himself up off the ground and starts in the direction of the library. He doesn't have the time to let Baz get under his skin, he has lecture in less than 2 hours, and needs to print his essay for his political development course.

 ----

      It turns out Simon was right about something, and that something is that Baz can definitely see into his room from across the quad. Simon watches Victoria College like a hawk between his classes and before bed for almost a week before he finally gets a glimpse of a figure in one of the windows who could only be Baz before the drapes are yanked firmly shut.

      When he grumbles about his misfortune to Penny she has no sympathy for him, and instead uses words that offend him- obsessive, creepy. Besides, it isn't creepy for him to spy on his nemesis and now neighbour. He just needs to be absolutely sure that Baz isn't invading his privacy by peeking into his window. And if the only way to make sure of that is to watch his window, well that isn't Simon's fault.

      And they keep running into each other. It's not an enormous university by any means, but with an undergraduate class of almost 20000 students, Simon would have thought he'd see at least some of them just as much if not more than he sees Baz. They're not even in the same program for god's sake. But it's just not meant to be, and instead Simon continues seeing Baz in the cafeteria, in the library, and even once in the tunnels under the quad connecting their college buildings. And if Simon was suspicious before, he is now absolutely certain that Baz is up to something because Penny had told him that the ceiling tiles in the tunnels were made with asbestos- and no one who values their health goes down there. But before he could find out what he was up to Baz had seen him, and promptly turned on his heel and went the way he had come. So fucking suspicious.


	4. Chapter 4

It's Hallowe'en when Simon starts piecing together some of the mystery. Penny has been seeing one of the guys she knew vaguely in prep school, Micah- and he's invited both her and Simon to his frat's house party.

"It's a graffiti party," Penny explains as they walk through the school bookstore looking for highlighters. "Micah says all the lights in the house have been replaced with black lights, and we're supposed to bring highlighters. Everyone shows up wearing a white shirt and you write things on each other."

 "What would I want to write on a stranger?" Simon is vaguely distracted by all the colours and almost misses Penny's sign of derision.

 "It's supposed to be cute, Simon. I don't know maybe you could write your mobile number, or just something like 'I think you're cute!'"

 "And maybe you can write on Micah's pecs that you're dying to-!" He laughs as Penny throws a handful of highlighters and pens in his face.

 "None of that," she says but she's blushing fiercely and not making eye contact. Simon lets the subject drop and picks up a blue highlighter.

 "Alright Pen, I think I'm ready."

\----

 It's a really cool idea, and Simon is glad he came but he wishes he'd also dressed up a little. Everyone is wearing white but most people are also wearing some kind of costume. Penny had found Micah immediately and disappeared into the packs of people and now Simon is left standing near the keg trying to spot anyone he knows well enough to go and socialise with.

 From the crowd a cute brunette with fairy wings pushes towards the keg Simon is standing next to and smiles before filling her cup. Her white shirt looks brand new, and Simon can't help but notice the very few names and emoji's drawn on the front. Penny and Micah had drawn a little on his, but so far he was far less decorated than some of the people he'd seen in the crowd.

 "Nice wings," he tries, might as well try and make friends before he needs to drag Penny away from Micah to fulfill his social needs (he hopes he doesn't have to, she'd be so mad if he did).

 "Thanks, I like your shirt," Simon smiles and looks at where she's pointing to his chest and the clumsy drawing of a castle Penny had tried to make.

 "Is it a rake?" He laughs and points to what he thinks is the drawbridge.

 "I think it's supposed to be some kind of fairy tale castle, here's some kind of door I think." He smiles again as she leans close and runs her finger along the turrets.

 "I'm so bad at this, I'm awful at drawing, and I have no idea what I could write or draw anyway," she admits, looking kind of sheepish.

 Simon tries to look nonchalant as he thinks about the best way to proceed. He hasn't been interested in anyone since he's met Agatha, but now that he knows that isn't going to happen there's no harm in looking around is there?

 "I said the same thing to my friend, and she told me that when in doubt you can always just write your name." Simon runs his hand through his hair and waits, trying not to show the nervousness he feels.

 "Oh that's a good idea, hold still," and that's how Simon gets his first stranger graffiti, and as he looks down at his navel where S-T-E-P-H-A is being slowly stenciled onto his shirt in a vibrant green he finds the courage to push his luck a little.

 "My friend- uh- also suggested that putting your mobile number is a good idea, you know in case you didn't have any other ideas," and there it is. The second between his little speech and her reaction feels like forever, and Simon hopes fervently that she can't feel the quickness of his heartbeat from where her hand is resting against his stomach. Then, she laughs.

 "Wow, that's such a great idea- ?"

 "Simon," he fills in.

 "Simon." She says, still smiling as she finishes her name, and against all odds continues writing a string of numbers underneath. When she finishes she caps the highlighter and smiles again, and Simon can't help but smile back.

 "So Simon," She starts, pushing her hair behind her ears, "I'm hoping you'll text me later, okay?"

 He's still smiling as she turns around and pushes her way back towards the rest of the party, and he thinks to himself that it is definitely more than okay.

 He doesn't have more than a minute to enjoy his victory, because all of sudden something hits him hard from behind and sends him stumbling forwards.

 "Fuck!" He shouts, rubbing at his shoulder and glancing behind himself. It's a guy in a storm trooper helmet, and Simon forces himself to not notice the endless scrawls in the entire rainbow across his entire shirt. Before he can demand an apology, the storm trooper grabs his shoulders and turns him, facing head on.

 "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you-?" Simon starts before stopping in complete surprise as the storm trooper crouches down and pulls the cap off of a purple highlighter and furiously starts striking through S-T-E-P-H-A-N-I-E's phone number.

 "What the fuck, what the fuck-" Simon chants like a mantra yanking the guy to his feet by the collar of his shirt and forcing him backwards. The guy manages to slip out of his grasp and turns around, stepping through the door to the porch and running off towards the library.

 "Jesus!" Simon throws down his beer and his highlighter and follows the guy through the door, leaving the darkness of the frat house behind and running along the grass made bright by moonlight. Simon isn't a great athlete by any means, but he is pissed, and he hasn't been drinking as much as he suspects everyone else at the house had been and he credits those reasons with how he manages to catch up with the storm trooper in the back field. In an epic feat of misjudgement he throws himself on the guy, flattening him into the astroturf and Simon falling heavily onto the guy's back, knee pressing into his sacrum.

 "You little prick," Simon hisses, removing his knee and turning the struggling guy over none too gently, "the fuck do you think-," he continues, tugging at the ridiculous helmet, and holding the guy by the collar of his shirt.

 As soon as the helmet slips off Simon stops completely. He even forgets to breathe. It doesn't even look like Baz. Simon didn't even know Baz ever wore anything but his posh suits, silk pocket squares and all. But here they are, Simon leaning over Baz, grasping him by the vee of his white t-shirt and holy shit Baz was wearing jeans. Jeans.

 "Fuck," Simon whispers to himself, forcing his eyes away from Baz's jeans (since when were his legs so long?) and looking into his face. He's a complete berk and looks arrogant and indifferent as ever, a bloody lip the only sign of the struggle they had just had.

 "S-Snow." He's breathing heavily, and Simon notices for the first time that he is too. The moonlight makes everything bright, too bright and Simon still can't believe his nemesis is here, and how did that happen?

 "What- what are you doing?" He expects the sneer he gets in return, but Baz won't quite look him in the eye. He tries to pull back, but Simon leverages his weight to keep Baz pinned to the ground, twisting the fist he has knotted in his shirt, and trying to catch his breath.

 "Look- look at me! What the fuck do you think you're playing at, you selfish, arrogant-"

 "Yes," It's said so softly Simon almost mistakes it for the wind. The quiet breathy sound sends a shiver down his spine and his brain is scrambling to catch up, and he would never have guessed that someone like Baz, so sharp and unyielding could ever make himself sound so open, so vulnerable.

 "What?" He gasps, heart still bounding after the chase, his mind reeling still trying to catch up, but when it comes to Baz he's always been left behind.

 "Yes- selfish," Baz whispers again, and somewhere in Simon's mind he registers the sentence fragment, and thinks to himself that he's never seen Baz act less like himself, but before he can reflect on this thought Baz is reaching up and tugging on his curls, fingers calloused and warm on the back of his neck and pulling him down, down.

 Simon realizes what is about to happen a split second before it is a reality, and then he doesn’t think of anything at all, lost to the sensation of soft lips, and the hot slide of tongue against his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far! Update Thurs/Fri.


	5. Chapter 5

The week leading up to fall break is a weird time for Simon. He goes through his classes in kind of a daze, taking notes when he remembers, and staring blankly at the lecturer's slides as they appear in front of him. He waits in the line in the cafeteria and mindlessly watches as the cook ladles out servings of potatoes onto people's plates. He hears people sitting in the quad making small talk and imagines himself joining in.

'I've snogged my enemy every day this week.'

He stares at the statement he's written in the margin of his notebook and tries to imagine saying it out loud to Penny, anyone. It sounds ridiculous, it is ridiculous. If he wasn't living it, Simon wouldn't have believed it. But since Hallowe'en most of his waking hours (and some of his sleeping ones too) have been dedicated to analyzing every slide and press of Baz's mouth against his, either in memory or while experiencing it.

In fact, this weirdness has been going on so long that Simon now understands that even though Baz has never said anything of the sort, there are rules to try and simplify whatever it is between them, although privately Simon thinks that nothing about this could ever be simple. Some of them he's still trying to tease out, but he's broken some of them enough times to be able to name a few.

The morning after Hallowe'en, hours after watching Baz peel himself from the astroturf and pushing him away roughly before making his way towards his dorm room, Simon spots Baz at his normal spot in the cafeteria, next to Niall and Dev. If the derisive look Baz gives him when he approaches and asks for a minute is any indication, talking about whatever is going on is definitely against the rules.

As is trying to bring it up in private, he learns the next night when he has Baz practically pulled into his lap in one of the abandoned classrooms in the asbestos tunnels.

"Your stammering attempts at an adult conversation don't interest me Snow, if you could refrain from boring me I'd be endlessly grateful," Simon grumbles and considers pushing the git off his lap and to the floor for a few seconds before he feels Baz press himself closer, and after that he can't convince himself to give up even a single inch of the closeness between them.

And so goes the most confusing week of his life. Other rules he's learned through trial and error include not changing their behaviour in public- he's still referred to only as Snow, and can still expect to be verbally taunted whenever they run into each other during the day. And no touching below the waist, another weird rule he'd learned the hard way when he all of a sudden found himself on his back on the dusty floor, head smarting from where he'd hit it after being unceremoniously shoved away. The door to the classroom slams so hard he wonders if anyone might come down to check, and he stares at the ceiling trying to decide if the swell of shame he feels is due to Baz's rejection, or his own desire. He goes to bed hours later, still not knowing the answer.

'This isn't normal,' he thinks to himself watching Baz sneaking a cigarette out of the window to his room the afternoon just before fall break. He knows through Agatha, who knows through Dev that Baz doesn't have a train back home until the next morning. But instead of heading down to the tunnels that night like he's been doing for the past week, Simon lies in his bed and stares at the ceiling instead. He tries not to think about Baz down there, waiting. How long would be wait? Or would he leave the moment he saw their usual classroom was empty?

Simon wakes abruptly and glances at his alarm clock- 2;36 am. The dorm is silent, the only sound is the distant rustle of the wind in the trees coming in through the open window. Simon waits and strains his ears, and thinks he can vaguely catch the sound of paper scraping against the floor near the crack under his door. But in the morning there is nothing there, and when he opens his curtains and looks across the quad he can see Baz's window is tightly shut, the curtains completely drawn, and Simon knows he's already gone.


	6. Chapter 6

After being away for two months, Simon finds it unbearable to be home again. Davy hovers around him, fusses over his midterm grades, and drags him out to endless political fundraisers and keynote addresses. Simon feels more like a show dog than a son, and even his mountain of school work he's brought with him don't seem to deter Davy from swallowing up his time, and trying to mould him into something Simon feels he isn't. Standing beside Davy and listening to him embellish his achievements embarrasses him, and Simon feels an intense surge of dislike for Baz who is probably going through the exact same thing, and preening over the attention- the git.

 The train ride back to uni is a relief, and Simon feels the stress of the week ebb away. And for the first time in a week he lets himself really think about Baz. It has been weird trying to bring up memories of their nights stolen away in the tunnels, almost like scenes from another life. He looks out the window at the countryside and wonders whether or not Baz will be waiting in the tunnels tonight, and whether or not he wants him to be.

 When he's safely ensconced back in his room, he pulls his drapes and looks over at Baz's window. The window is ajar and the drapes are pulled open. The glare from the late afternoon light makes it impossible for him to see inside, and so he settles down onto his bed and tries to decide whether or not he's going to meet him after dinner.

 On one hand, it's Baz. And even though he's a great kisser (a fantastic kisser really- he's purposeful in a way that is somehow completely him, but passionate in a way that Simon definitely couldn't have predicted) he's still- well- an awful git. He's pompous, superior and the most entitled person Simon has ever had the misfortune to meet. And yet- Simon would be lying if he wasn't attracted to him. However that went without saying, the lazy wave of dark hair over his forehead, the almost ethereal gray of his eyes stark against the smooth toffee of his skin- his entire being was ridiculous. Simon was pretty sure he had never really thought about other guys before, but his entirely consuming physical attraction to Baz made complete sense.

 And in the end he tells himself that's the reason he finds himself heading down to the tunnels at half past ten, making his usual excuses to Penny, Agatha and Micah who are all trying to watch telly in the commons room. He lets himself into their usual classroom and sits on the couch at the back of the room, breathing in the musty air and trying not to seem too eager.

 He waits over an hour before deciding that Baz isn't coming. There's something gnawing and dark in the pit of his stomach but he ignores it, telling himself it doesn't matter, that none of it does. Instead of going back to his building he turns towards Victoria College and tries not to think about why he isn't making plans to just get into bed and stay there.

 He's familiar with the outside of Victoria College's dorms, but once he's inside the building he has no idea where to start. He can see Baz's room from his, but he has no way of knowing which room along the endless rows of doors is his. He knows his window faces west, and is on the first floor, but there are fifty other rooms to choose from. After deciding against knocking until he finds it, Simon settles for waiting at the end of the hallway, ignoring awkward stares from the residents as they make they way to the washrooms and then to bed.

 Distantly he hears the clock tower strike one o'clock and he decides to give up his vigil. He tries to find his way back to the tunnels, and instead gets lost and finds himself in a small courtyard he suspects is in the complete opposite direction. There's a neatly tended garden and a little cobblestone path leading to a small fountain. And because his life is rapidly becoming the world's worst romantic drama, there is someone sitting on the edge of the fountain, and that person is Baz.

 Baz doesn't look up from his book as Simon approaches and sits what he thinks is a safe distance away. Then he notices a pair of dark socks and leather shoes neatly arranged on a nearby bench and sees Baz has rolled up the hems of his suit trousers and is soaking his feet. Simon decides to do the same, roughly yanking off his trainers and dipping his toes in. The water is absolutely freezing, and Simon makes an unintentional noise of surprise before remembering that of course the water is cold- it's already November.

 He wants to ask Baz where he was, why he didn't come down to the tunnels, but he can't bring himself to break any of the rules, so he tries something else instead.

 "Isn't that bad for the suit?" He gestures at the rolled up hem. Baz continues to avoid making eye contact and idly flips a page of his book.

 "I hate suits."

 The statement is a complete surprise to Simon who can count on one hand (on a single finger, actually) the number of times he's seen Baz in anything other than a suit. Once he's over that, Simon is surprised all over again at how forthwith Baz was, answering and without any unnecessary rudeness. In fact, Simon thinks this may be the first thing he's learned about Baz from Baz himself instead of from watching him, or pressing other people for information.

 "I've only ever seen you in anything other a suit once," Simon remarks, half cringing at the statement and half elated that they're finally talking without putting one another down.

 "Nice to know you're keeping count. However, it's what gives people the right impression."

 Simon knows enough about Baz to guess that he's trying to sound unaffected, but underneath it Simon can't help but to notice something kind of like bitterness. In fact, it reminds him of the way he himself talks about things like debate team, or his clarinet lessons. Things he never really cared for which were expected if him simply because of who his father wanted him to be, and the image of his family he was trying to project. For the first time Simon wonders if he and Baz are more alike than he knows.

 He's just about to state this hypothesis out loud when Baz finally shuts his book with a soft thump and finally looks at him.

 "It's convenient that you're here. I've been thinking it's probably for the best that we no longer meet." Simon's throat all of a sudden feels dry, and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as he swallows. It's crazy, you can't be dumped by someone you never had ties to, but this feels a lot like getting dumped.

 "Because you don't want to?" It's childish, he should accept Baz's statement for what it is and just leave. But he can't think of anything other than the way Baz would press his hands tight to Simon's jaw as they kissed, pulling their faces together like he couldn't get close enough. And the last time they met, the way Baz had run his hand down the vee of Simon's collarbone, pressing into the hollow and sighing contentedly. Simon may not know much, if anything, about Baz, but he knows what it feels like to want something so badly, and he knows how that want looks on Baz's face.

 "Does it matter? Either way, it sends the wrong impression."

 "The wrong impression? To whom? And why, because of our families?" Simon starts, confused and frustrated, before stopping all at once, and he can't believe it, it's almost unthinkable to him. An antiquated idea, barely holding on in the minds of people too old and proud to admit they are wrong, and that the world has changed since their days in the sun.

 "Because I'm a boy," Baz can't even make eye contact with him as he says it, instead looking out towards the freezing fountain, but Simon hears him let out a little huff of breath in response.

 "You do know it's 2015 right? And not like 1815 or whatever Victorian period you think we're living in," Simon tries to lighten the mood and feels it fall flat instead. And in the end he can only watch as Baz gets up and picks up his shoes and socks, walking barefoot back towards his room. He leaves his book behind, and Simon pockets it before staring at the fountain until he can't bear to be outside anymore and makes his way back to Woodsworth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	7. Chapter 7

To distract himself Simon throws himself back into his school work. His professors notice the improvement in his essays, and he tries to comfort himself with their praise and the gradual change in his reputation as the other undergrads accept him as one of their own, and someone who deserves to be where they are, regardless of how he got there.

 Penny notices his sulk and tries to snap him out of it, but he doesn't feel ready to talk to her yet. He knows she'll understand but his hurt is still too raw and he sidesteps her attempts at prying it out of him. Instead he comforts himself with his textbooks, and spends twice as much time with Penny and Agatha as he ever did, strengthening the friendships he has left.

 Before he knows it, the fall term is coming to an end and exams are on the horizon. He hasn't seen more than a glimpse of Baz in over 3 weeks. His college is having an end of term dance and he is surprised when Agatha asks him to go with her. At the beginning of the year he wouldn't have been able to name anything that would make him happier, and so he tries not to feel guilty when he accepts.

 The days keeping slipping by, early December brings the first of the snow, and their exam session begins. Penny becomes a regular fixture in library beside him, drinking endless cups of coffee and structuring and restructuring essays on foreign policy while Simon tries to cram the advantages and disadvantages of different government systems into his brain.

 Two days before the end of term dance Simon finds himself holed up in his room, tinkering with the thermostat and trying to figure out why his room is at least ten degrees colder than everyone else's. He vaguely thinks about what he's going to wear to the dance, whether or not he will need to bring Agatha a corsage, so that when the knock on his door comes it's almost as if he is willing it to happen.

 He barely gets the door open before he is being pushed backwards aggressively, Baz kicking the door shut behind him. He lands on his bed and Baz follows, hovering over him in a way that should be alarming, but Simon's so relieved to see him he doesn't really care about the theatrics of it all. Baz narrows his eyes, and Simon can see that he looks as shitty as Simon's been feeling. It shouldn't comfort him, but it does.

 "Wellbelove." Simon knows he isn't nearly as smart as Baz, but he isn't a moron and he quite vividly remembers the mini meltdown Baz had on Hallowe'en. He shrugs and tries to look uninterested in where this is going.

 "She asked, I said yes. It's not really a thing." He wonders if maybe that was the wrong approach. He should have said it was a thing- a big thing. The most important, serious thing. Anything to get a reaction out of Baz, however he watches Baz's nostrils flare and he admits that Baz is probably just sleep deprived and jealous enough to get a reaction out of anyway.

 "She can't have you." Baz practically hisses, jabbing his thumb into Simon's breastbone for emphasis. Simon is intrigued, and also a little bit offended, because really, he is his own person and he can see whomever he wants and doesn't need anyone's permission. It's beside the point that he doesn't want anyone else.

 "Hey! I can do what I want-,"

 "I know but I don't care, I don't care. She can't have you, no one can have you." Baz looks crazed, one hand on Simon's collar, the other tearing at his own hair. It's actually kind of flattering to watch the great Baz Pitch losing it over the idea of Simon going to a university sanctioned dance with a friend. Lame, but flattering.

 "Alright, so if no one can have me, and you don't want me, what exactly-," and then all Simon feels is bliss. A month isn't a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it turns out a month is long enough to forget the exact feel and press of Baz's familiar mouth against his own. It's long enough for him to be surprised all over again by the passionate way Baz grips his face, running his tongue gently along the roof of his mouth. Simon leans back and pulls Baz on top of him, mentally berating himself for forgetting these very important details and trying to learn everything again so he can properly commit it all to memory.

 Simon is surprised and elated when he feels Baz's hands tugging at his shirt, releasing his mouth while he wrestles the fabric over Simon's head. As soon as the shirt is flung to a far away corner, Baz claims his mouth again, hands moving insistently over the muscles in Simon's chest, and suddenly the room doesn't seem so cold anymore.

 Simon takes his time slowly pulling the suit jacket from around Baz's shoulders, and fumbles with his tie until it comes undone in his hands. He's just managed to single-handedly undo half of his shirt buttons, other hand tugging up Baz's shirt from where it is neatly tucked into his trousers, when he feels Baz carefully pull himself out of Simon's grasp.

 They stare at each other for a second, trying to catch their breath and Simon hopes Baz can't feel the wild pounding of his heart as Baz's hands slide lower, over the front of Simon's jeans before thumbing at the button.

 "Let me," His voice is low, a quiet hum against the underside of Simon's jaw as he leans back in to tongue along Simon's carotid pulse. Simon literally feels his heart skip a beat and he presses up into the pressure of Baz's hands. It feels good, and he grunts as Baz presses down, increasing the pressure where he wants it most.

 "Yes, yes, fuck". Baz's reaction is immediate, and Simon finds himself out of his trousers and pants so fast he isn't entirely sure they didn't just disintegrate through sheer will power alone. He feels self conscious for about two seconds, reflexively pulling in on himself until he sees the look on Baz's face. Simon has never been a vain man, he's had his share of admirers but his skinny frame and unruly copper curls have never made him a show stopper- but the look on Baz's face as he admires him makes Simon feel incandescent.

 "Baz-," He starts, but finds he can't continue as he's pushed back onto his elbows.

 "No, Snow. Shut up." The words are familiar to him, this is hardly the first time Baz has told him to keep his mouth shut, only now there's no venom behind the words. Instead there's a sort of tenderness that makes Simon's heart clench painfully and he can do nothing but nod and comply.

 The first smooth press of fingertips on his skin steals the breath from his lungs. Simon can feel his heart pounding with the anticipation, skin alive and raw under Baz's wandering hands. He wants nothing more than to reach out and pull him closer, but his last shred of common sense keeps his hands fisted in the sheets at his sides. When it finally comes, the first long, tentative lick from base to crown- Simon throws his head back and moans.

 "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he manages, gripping the sheets tighter as he feels Baz run his tongue along the vein on the underside. Simon wants nothing more than to look down and watch, but he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes- this is going to be over quick enough without the added visuals.

 He feels Baz tonguing at his frenulum and his hips jump, body out of his control as he whines and tries to inch himself further into the tight suction of his mouth. And just like that it's too much, and Simon gives in- finally winding his fingers into Baz's hair and tugging. The soft grunt he receives in response is enough to take his breath away, his body restless and fluorescent with pleasure.

 Somewhere he vaguely registers the barely audible sound of a zipper, and all of a sudden one of the hands that had been thumbing soothing patterns on his hip is gone. Before Simon can truly mourn it's loss Baz speeds up, and Simon is left fisting the long dark hair between his fingers and gasping.

 "Oh god Baz," Simon writhes against the bedsheets, and he feels Baz's rhythm start to stutter- but it's more than enough. Simon hears himself exclaim harshly as he pushes up, trying to get deeper, and suddenly Baz's hands are back pressing his hips down, down into the mattress and Simon loses everything except for the strong press of fingers and the wet heat of Baz's mouth.

 Finally Simon lets himself fall  backwards onto the bed, elbows protesting their prolonged weight bearing. His heart is thudding so quickly it feels like one continuous note. He lies there, gasping for breath, and is startled when something hard and cold smacks him in the face.

 "Jesus, what the fuck?" He means to sound irritated, but he comes off as breathy instead, unable to hide his bone deep satisfaction. He's disappointed to see that Baz is already mostly dressed, tucking his rebuttoned shirt into his trousers. As he starts to fiddle with the ends of his tie he gestures impatiently to what Simon finally notices is his own phone, lying on the sheets beside his head.

 "You're not staying?" Baz frowns and avoids eye contact, instead smoothing out the creases in his pants. He opens his mouth, but quickly closes it again and Simon wishes he knew exactly which combination of words would be enough to get Baz to take that suit jacket back off and get onto the bed with him.

 "No Snow, besides I have to go and keep Niall company. He's been rather down, boring me with how he wanted to take Wellbelove to the winter formal, but it appears she already has a date," Baz raises an eyebrow pointedly and tilts his head in the direction of Simon's phone, still lying untouched on the bed beside him.

 "Why do I feel like this is more of a favour to you than to him?" Simon wonders out loud, finally picking his phone up and swiping through his contacts.

 "I have no idea what you mean, Snow," Baz says, but he's smirking in that familiar way that makes Simon want to bite his mouth, but mostly just punch him in his snobbish face. Simon frowns and focuses on trying to pick the right words- Agatha is going to be furious and he's not unsympathetic, it's a pretty dick move for him to cancel this close to the formal. He rubs at his forehead and stares at the light on his ceiling, trying to concentrate. He's so focused he doesn't notice the way Baz lingers in the doorway, or the solemn look on his face as he finally turns and lets the door shut behind him.

 It's over a month later that Simon finally sees him again.


	8. Chapter 8

December trudges on, Simon finishes up his final exams,  hands in all his essays, and entirely too soon he's catching the train back home- texting Penny the whole way and trying to look forward to Christmas. Being home turns out to be just as bleak as he remembers over fall break- his dad drags him to endless holiday parties where he dutifully answers questions about his plans for the future and his studies, while his dad alternately pats him on the back and pulls him aside to remind him to smile more.

 

At an especially lavish party on Christmas eve, Simon is trying to discreetly help himself to his fifth miniature quiche and thinking longingly of a roast beef with Yorkshire pudding when his dad comes up and directs his gaze towards a smartly dressed man at the bar.

 

"I forgot to ask when you were home last- do you know Tyrannus Pitch?" For a split second Simon barely registers the question, then his brain makes the connection between Tyrannus and Baz and all of sudden he's convinced he's going to have a stroke, right here at the buffet table. For all of his efforts, Baz hasn't been far from Simon's mind since they last saw each other, but here, talking about Baz with his dad just feels- wrong.

 

"I've seen him around, why?" He hopes he sounds casual and uninterested, rather than desperate for any news about him, anything at all.

 

"His father is over at the bar, he usually brings his son to these kinds of events, but I haven't seen him recently. In the new year our campaign is planning on focusing on these family-led corporations and really tackling problems with lobbying and bribery. I know Malcolm has been preparing Tyrannus for his eventual acquisition of the company, but if they're not getting along, it might help to ask if he'd be willing to talk to us."

 

"What, like ask Baz to rat his dad and company out?" Simon surmises, coughing a little as he chokes on his spit in surprise. Davy frowns.

 

"Baz?" Simon tries not to look panicked and tries to come up with a reasonable explanation for why he has a nickname for someone he claims to know only in passing.

 

"We have a mutual friend, apparently that's what he prefers to be called." He shrugs and looks over at Baz's dad. If Davy hadn't said anything Simon would have never guessed they were related. Baz is tall and dark, and his father is stockier and looks washed out in the twinkling Christmas lights. They dress the same, Simon notes vaguely, the dark bespoke jacket almost identical to one Simon remembers pushing off strong shoulders…

 

He gives himself a shake, and goes back to his father's conversation, continuing without him as he keeps listing hopes and plans for the campaign in the new year. Simon is content to go back to his food and keep counting down the minutes until he can beg off and finally go home and just get away.

 

\----

 

He leaves home a full week earlier than he needs to, deflecting his father's questions and disappointment in missing important social and work events with weak excuses about student council meetings and work study opportunities. Never mind that Simon doesn't even know where or when the student council meetings happen, let alone how to get elected in the first place.

 

The campus is almost eerily empty, students still trying to enjoy the time off and home with their families, or away on their hard earned vacations. He spends most of his days in his room, clicking through his laptop aimlessly, or walking around the abandoned campus, collar turned up against the wind and snow. He checks Baz's window across the quad every day, but the heavy curtains are still pulled shut tight, and Simon knows he's just a shade too eager to know where Baz is, what he's up to.

 

Four days before the start of term Simon spots the book Baz had left on the edge of the fountain the day he had caught him in the courtyard. The cover is worn and weather-beaten, and the spine is cracked irreparably. The pages are slightly yellowed with age, and have been thumbed through so many times the cover doesn't even lie flat anymore. It doesn't look like anything Baz would ever own, but the elegant script inside the cover confirms it.

 

Simon isn't much of a reader, he reads essays and textbooks for school, he reads some graphic novels and a few comic strips for fun here and there, but all the novels he's read have usually been under the duress of a school project or assignment. He thinks of Baz lovingly carrying this book around, reading through it year after year, and then finally bringing it here to school with him.

 

Maybe it's the evocative thought of holding something that is obviously so important to Baz, or just a complete surrender to the boredom of an empty campus, but either way Simon sits down on his bed, opens the book, and starts to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long delay, and thanks for reading. Hopefully after I graduate in the next few months things will settle down and I'll be able to update and continue this more regularly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience! Here's a little something- and now that I've graduated, moved, and written half of my licensing exams I have a lot more time to write a dedicate to this. I got a few comments about the book from these past few chapters- I had an idea as to what the book was as I was writing, but use your imagination and insert your favourite.

It takes Simon 2 days to finish the book. He didn’t have any expectations when he first opened it- knowing relatively little about Baz, there wasn't much he had going for him when trying the predict the type of books he would read. In hindsight, Simon may have been less surprised to find something satirical, or a poignant book rife with social commentary. But what he ends up reading is a love story. A sad love story, but the book is definitely a romance. 

Apart from being really fucking weird, it's also intriguing and Simon adds this little bit of information to what he already knows about Baz, which admittedly isn't much. By himself in the relative safety of his dorm room, Simon finally lets himself think about Baz in the way he's wanted to since the last time they saw each other. Baz had been jealous, and even though Simon has known for awhile now that Baz is prone towards possessiveness, the memory makes him smile. 

For whatever weird reason, Baz wants him. And Simon knows (has known for awhile) that he wants him too. And now, lying alone in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, Simon decides to finally do something about it. He's lost years of his life trying to live up to other people's expectations, and now he's tired of feeling alone, being alone. Living life for yourself means more than just avoiding the things you don't like- it means going after the things you want.

\-------

Simon doesn't know what he expects when he looks across the quad the morning before the beginning of term and sees the heavy curtains in Baz's room pulled aside. However that night as he sits in their usual classroom in the asbestos tunnels and swipes through his phone, he is honest enough with himself to admit he didn't quite expect to be ignored. 

He's tempted to let it go, he doesn't want to seem clingy, and he knows Baz is busy- his list of extracurriculars and intramural sports would be impressive between two people, let alone a singular person. But after three days of space, Simon is done waiting around. Instead, he finds out through a casual acquaintance in one of Baz's study groups that the school tennis team has its first meeting on Thursday evening. 

Thursday evening finds Simon haunting the men's locker rooms in the athletic complex, trying to look preoccupied as he shifts his gym bag from shoulder to shoulder.

"Snow?" He glances up from his phone just in time to see the space between Baz's eyebrows wrinkle, and then in a second smooth out again. His hair is longer, so long now that he's pulled it into a little bun at the back of his head. Simon allows himself to stare, tracing the edges of his tennis whites where they stretch across the strong muscles of his thighs and Simon fidgets.

"It's sweet that you waited up for me. Are you going to walk me home too, hoping for a goodnight kiss?" A couple of the guys on the tennis team laugh as they elbow their way past the two of them to hit the showers. Simon feels the back of his neck redden in embarrassment, and shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant.

"I saw you as I was coming in to work out, figured I'd catch up with you afterwards." Baz reaches for him and Simon leans forward towards his hands, closing his eyes and sighing in anticipation of finally being exactly where he's wanted to be all month long.

The quick tug on his gym bag overbalances him, and Simon trips forwards as Baz unzips it and takes a peek inside. 

"Well, it's a good thing you packed your scarf and bathrobe, who knows how you would have managed to fit in a workout without those." The shit eating grin Baz gives him only annoys him half as much as it should, as all it does is highlight the curve of Baz's mouth, which brings forward some of Simon's more pleasant memories.

"If you're not interested you could just say so. I must have gotten confused with all the dick sucking and snogging that happened last time I saw you." Simon frowns and barely has time to regret his choice of words before Baz flinches away from him, glancing over his shoulders towards the sound of the showers.

"Jesus Snow", he breathes, eyes wide and darting around the room, "why don't you just post it on the school website and send out a newsletter?"

"Look, sorry. That wasn't what I wanted to say."

Baz grits his teeth and Simon tries to ignore the nauseous feeling rising in his throat as he takes another step away from him. 

"Wasn't it? Because you made it all sound so appealing."

"Baz," Simon starts, but doesn't get a chance to finish, Baz already turning around and walking away, twisting between the rows of lockers towards the showers.

"Just fuck off Snow".

Shit.

\-------

He knows he has to apologize. He wants to apologize. But every time Simon spots Baz on campus, he turns around and stalks off. Simon still hasn't been able to find out which room number he lives in, and he figures it might seem insincere if he just shoots him a private message on Facebook, plus even with his strict privacy settings preventing Simon from seeing much of anything, it doesn't look like Baz checks or updates it often.

Finally after waffling over the apology for the better part of a week, Simon finally stalks across the quad with a post it note in his hand. He has to lean right up on the tips of his toes to reach, but he manages to stick to post-it note to Baz's window all the same. He quickly pulls a roll of tape out of the pocket of his jacket and sticks a couple of strips to the note just in case.

\-------

That night as Simon is getting ready for bed he hears a series of quick knocks on his door. He's barely managed to open it when Baz pushes right past him and uses the heel of his foot to push it shut again. He leans against it and narrows his eyes, taking in the frayed edges of Simon's pyjama pants and the stain on his night shirt. He holds up Simon's note between his fingers and manages to look almost bored.

"Your handiwork, I assume?"

The note is a little crumpled, but altogether none the worst for wear. Simon's phone number is still easily legible In his cramped writing, and his quick afterthought "please call" is still squished underneath.

Simon runs his hands through his hair and sighs. He tries to find where to start, and decides to just go for it.

"I'm just so fucking sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said, I know you're having trouble with- whatever", Simon gestures at himself and then at Baz vaguely before continuing, "and I shouldn't have said what I said to make you uncomfortable, like what we did together was shameful or something."

He watches Baz raise his eyebrows, like he's surprised at what he's hearing.

"Eloquent." 

"Oh fuck off," Simon manages to let out a small laugh at the way Baz continues to look indifferent to the whole situation, the small tug at the corner of his mouth the only indication that he's enjoying Simon's grovelling more than he's letting on.

"I just- you can piss me off so much, and I get so defensive, but I don't ever want to make you feel ashamed. Sometimes, I think you make me crazy with how much I want you." Baz's eyebrows reach even higher peaks as Simon continues, unable to stop now that he's started.

"I want you all the time, I think about you constantly. It drives me insane. I know barely anything about you, but sometimes when I watch you, I feel like I know you for real. I sound completely mental, but-"

The press of Baz's mouth against his is surprising, and soft. Simon tilts his face up and pulls Baz down by the lapels of his collared shirt. The kiss is slow, sensual in a way that is completely at odds with the grip Baz has around Simons wrists, keeping his hands fisted in Baz's collar. Simon feels himself swaying, his overwhelming relief and lack of oxygen threatening the perfect bliss of the moment. 

Vaguely, Simon starts walking backwards, pulling Baz along until he feels the backs of his knees against the side of his bed. He sits and pulls Baz into his lap, tugging his wrists free and sliding his hands over Baz's arse. The noise Baz makes into his mouth as he pulls him closer makes something deep in his chest ache with want, and Simon doesn't waste time before sliding his tongue alongside Baz's own. 

It's always been good between them, and being pressed so sweetly together after so long apart makes Simon feel like he's losing his mind. He can't decide where to put his hands, and so he compromises on everywhere- rubbing along the expanse of Baz's thighs, tugging at his hair, on the edge of his jaw- fingers pressing into the quick pulse at the side of his neck.

Simon tears himself away from the moment just long enough to appreciate it, moving his hands to Baz's shirt buttons and fumbling them through their holes. He can feel the firm press of Baz's hands against the vertebrae at the back of his neck, and shivers into the touch, dropping his lips against the soft skin under Baz's ear. 

"I missed you," Simon whispers into his skin, taking his time pushing the shirt off of Baz's shoulders. Baz huffs a laugh into his hair and pulls away for a second to finish shedding his shirt and quickly pulling Simon out of his.

"I think you mean you missed getting laid," It's light, teasing in a way that Baz usually isn't. 

"I don't know, am I going to get laid?" Simon readjusts, and pulls Baz further into his lap, grinding their hips together and mouthing down his throat. The sound Baz makes is something Simon wants to remember forever, devour whole and keep deep in his chest. Baz tugs at his hair, and Simon lifts his face back up, rubbing his nose against Baz's and just sharing his breath.

"I'd say you have very good odds." Baz breathes against his lips, and Simon grins before finally letting himself fall backwards, pulling Baz down to the bed with him. Very good odds- that's a bet he's willing to take.

Hours later, Simon wakes up and is immediately confused at the darkness surrounding him. He glances towards his alarm clock and tries to remember where the time went. He remembers watching Baz yawn and slowly fall asleep as Simon rubbed circles on the smooth expanse of his belly. 

He reaches out, and finds the other half of his mattress empty, the edge of the sheets turned down his only evidence of having had company at all. He finds his phone on the edge of his bookshelf, a single light indicating a new text message:

04:36am: Sleep well, Snow.

Simon rereads the message over again twice before shutting off the screen and tucking the phone under his pillow- and if there's a ridiculous grin he can't stop himself from making, well- there's no one around to comment on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I'm super grateful to all of you. Have a great week all!


End file.
